


If I Let Go, Would You Hold On?

by Turnthedirtintojoy



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, It's All Just Angst Really, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sad Ending, Violence, i'm so sorry about this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnthedirtintojoy/pseuds/Turnthedirtintojoy
Summary: Kaz closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I am not a good man, Inej,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw like steel on stone.“I think you want to be,” said Inej.***In which Pekka Rollins is back in town, and Kaz is faced with an impossible choice.
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Comments: 45
Kudos: 70





	1. KAZ

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> If what you are looking for is a story with a happy ending, or even a happy beginning, you'd do best to close this tab.  
> You will find no fluff in these next few chapters, no happy jolly adventures, only angst, violence and death (because apparently I love to suffer and make people suffer).
> 
> This is my first Six Of Crows fic, so hopefully this humble story does Leigh Bardugo's magical world and incredibly fleshed-out characters justice. I will be posting the chapters one by one, but I've already written the whole thing, so I promise I won't leave you hanging.
> 
> Title is from the song Dancing After Death by Matt Maeson.

_“What happens if you make it back from the Slat? If the auction goes as planned and we manage this feat?”_

_“Then you get your ship and your future.”_

_“And you?”_

_“I wreak all the havoc I can until my luck runs out.”_

* * *

Kaz knew his luck was running out. It had been almost two years since the auction at the Church of Barter, and enemies were coming at him on all fronts. The Razorgulls had gone on the offensive, encroaching on the Dregs’ territory more and more often and intercepting their shipments. The Council of Tides had renewed their threats, and his bluff about the plague would only keep them at bay for so long. He knew they would never kill him, not before they learned Kuwei’s whereabouts, but a wave could engulf _The_ _Wraith_ at any moment, swift and deadly, a message hidden in plain sea, and sweat beads formed on his brow at the mere thought.

_Inej_.

Kaz was seated at his former desk, on the top floor of the Slat, pen in hand, stacks of paper filled with rows of figures before him. He didn’t like to use adding machines and usually did the tallies in his head, but tonight, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to make sense of the numbers. His eyes kept straying to the window ledge, his mind drifting back to the last time Inej had sat there, feeding the crows in the fading sun. 

It had been over a year ago, but he could still picture it vividly. Her hair was in a tightly coiled braid, her brown skin even darker than usual from all the months spent on the open sea, and a little furrow had settled between her black brows. Kaz was perched on the ledge next to her, careful not to touch her. He had discarded his jacket and hat, but his gloves were on, the black leather like second skin, a bigger barrier between them than the True Sea could ever be. 

The few times _The Wraith_ had found its way back and dropped anchor in Ketterdam, Kaz had made no attempt to renew their moment on the quay, before her parents had arrived, when their fingers had entwined and their palms had pressed for the first time. The armour was back on, and Kaz was determined to keep her at arm’s length this time. Inej had mentioned nothing until now, but her returns were becoming fewer and farther in between, and he could tell she was growing restless. Angry, even. 

_Good_ , Kaz thought. _If I can’t let her go, maybe I can make her leave._

He flexed his fingers on his knees, and she eyed his gloved hands wearily, while the crows nipped gently at her now empty palm.

“When are you going back at sea?” Kaz asked, gaze fixed on the grey expanse of the city stretching out before him. He wished she would leave and never come back. He wanted her to stay with him forever.

“I’m not sure,” said Inej. “The ship’s been ready for days. We could set sail tomorrow.”

Though he wasn’t looking at her, he could tell her eyes had shifted to his face. She was studying the hard lines of his cheekbones, the sure clench of his jaw, searching frantically for something she never seemed to find. 

Her answer was a thinly-disguised question, he knew that. _Do you want me to go? Would you like me to stay?_ She was throwing him a line, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he just nodded silently. She sighed, heavy and long, and he could almost feel her slipping away from him, like soft sand through fingers, like a ship in the waves, drifting further and further away from shore. 

Maybe one day, if he had the courage to push her away hard enough, she would not come back. Perhaps one day they would be free of each other. But Inej had the annoying habit of holding on to him, clinging to the delusional belief that she could save him—that he was _worth_ saving. 

“When I said I wanted you without armour,” she began, “I didn’t just mean the gloves. Or the suits.”

“I know.”

“The deal is the deal.”

“The deal is the deal,” he repeated simply.

Inej let out a frustrated grunt and shifted on the window sill. “You can’t touch me, but you could talk to me,” she said, and Kaz hated how hopeful she sounded. “If you can’t show me, at least tell me.”

What was he supposed to tell her? That it would be better for both of them if she left and never looked back? That he needed her safe more than he needed her near? That he wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him? That she deserved so much more than he could ever give her? That he had robbed, killed, maimed, butchered more people than he could count, innocent and guilty, but binding her to him would still somehow feel like his most unforgivable crime? 

“Say something,” Inej pleaded. 

It took all the willpower he had to keep his gaze trained on the horizon. It would be so easy to chuck it all in and take her in his arms, to whisper in her ear how much he wanted her to stay, how much he wanted _her_. But he knew the truth even if she didn’t; he could see her future almost as clearly as a painting, bright and warm and happy, and he had no place in it. 

He could hear the crows cackling and cawing at each other on the roof at his feet, and a loud buzz from the streets below came to him in uneven waves, as if pushed and pulled by the wind.

“Say _anything_ ,” she tried again, but all hope had left her voice, and he knew she had given up.

_When you’re away, some days I miss you so much it feels like I can’t breathe_ , Kaz thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. It was pathetic, really. The absolute worst he could offer her. He finally looked at her, and saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears in the setting dark. He was glad she wouldn’t let them fall. He didn’t deserve them.

With the grace of an acrobat, Inej dropped down from the ledge and landed on the mansard roof without a sound. The crows scattered around her.

“Will you return?” Kaz asked before she had a chance to disappear. The coward. Why couldn’t he just let her go?

“I’m not sure, Kaz,” she admitted, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I think I may be done with Ketterdam.”

And just like that, she left. He had not gone to see her off at berth twenty-two the next day, nor had he written to her, or asked Wylan and Jesper if they had any news when she didn’t return after months at sea. And when _The Wraith_ had finally reappeared in Fifth Harbour after a year, Kaz had stayed safely hidden in the shadows, gloved hands over the crow head of his cane, as he watched the crew disembark. And when he had seen a familiar Suli man put his arm around Inej’s waist—the way he had so often dreamed he could—and had seen her looking at the young man with love in her eyes—the way he had so often hoped she would him—, he had said nothing at all, and had disappeared into the crowd.

“You’re ready to go, boss?” a hoarse voice snapped him back to the present. 

The voice belonged to Jeroen, a former Dime Lion who had eagerly joined the Dregs after Rollins’s demise, and who had proven to be a loyal and skilled fighter, almost as handy with a blade as Inej was, and just as apt with his bare fists. Kaz hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs.

He dropped his pen on the desk, and ran his hands over his face with a sigh. He had a job to do tonight, and he needed to focus. The Razorgulls had been intercepting his shipments of _jurda_ before they even reached the harbour, and it was high time to pay them back in kind. 

A good chunk of the Razorgulls’ money came from their distillery, located south of the Warehouse district, where they made and bottled several hundreds of gallons of very cheap, very popular gin each week. It was a smart and sound economic venture: malt, juniper berries, water and sugar, all turned into liquid gold. The Razorgulls supplied the entire Barrel—except the Crow Club—and made a huge margin on the bottle. If they were, for some reason, unable to deliver, it would make a lot of dangerous people angry, not to mention the enormous financial loss the gang would suffer. And thanks to one surprisingly clever, though terribly annoying merchling, Kaz had the perfect way to destroy their entire production and make it look like an accident.

Leaning on his cane, Kaz got to his feet and put on his coat. He tapped his breast pocket to make sure the small vial was still there, grabbed the hat on his desk, and limped towards the door, where Jeroen was waiting patiently.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice commanding.

It was just the two of them tonight. It was a simple enough job. In and out. He could have got someone else to do it for him, but he didn’t want anyone to know about the weevil—it was a powerful weapon, and the less people knew, the smaller the chances of it ever being used against him. 

Besides, Kaz didn’t like to keep his hands too clean. 

As he and Jeroen made their way along West Stave in silence, Kaz went over the particulars of the plan in his head. The hardest part would be to get in unnoticed, but Roeder had done some spying, and there were only five Razorgulls guarding the building, all of them on the ground near the entrances, so they should be able to get in from the roof unseen. Climbing wasn’t where Kaz shone, but one of the warehouses farther south had an emergency staircase which would save them an unpleasant ascent. From there, Roeder had guaranteed that they would be able to move from roof to roof without too much trouble. Kaz would then make quick work of the padlock on the hatch door to the distillery. Inside, only two guards patrolled the vast area at night, so it would be easy enough for him to avoid detection and slip the weevil into the main column still. Jeroen would be there as a lookout, and as back-up in case anything went wrong. 

The Razorgulls had no reason to be overzealous with security: they kept no finished goods at the distillery—the stock was dispatched at the end of each day to clients or to their warehouse in the Barrel—so there was nothing to steal but cheap raw products. Their main concern was the fire hazard—accidental or intentional—which could destroy their entire batch in a matter of seconds. They had installed state-of-the-art smoke alarms and invested heavily in fireproof columns stills. But they had no idea what was coming for them. In fact, if Kaz managed to pull this off without being seen, they would never even find out exactly what had gone wrong.

As he mulled over the plan, Kaz couldn’t help but think that it would have been the perfect job for his Wraith. 

_Inej_.

She had been back in Ketterdam for two weeks now and Kaz had only seen her twice. The first time was when she had marched into his office one morning, almost a full week after her return, and nothing short of demanded he came to dinner at Wylan’s the following week. She had skipped the pleasantries, and he had been grateful. They hadn’t spoken or seen each other in over a year, and his heart had threatened to burst right out of his chest at the mere sight of her. 

“I want you to meet Adem.”

_Adem Bajan_. He was the young man who had put his arm around Inej at the berth, and now the name was just as familiar as the face. Bajan used to work for Van Eck, and Kaz could remember all the times he had watched the Suli man come and go from Eil Komedie at odd hours when Inej was held captive.

“I won’t take no for an answer.” Of course she wouldn’t, and Kaz had never been able to say no to her anyway.

So he had gone to the Van Eck Mansion as instructed, and had seen Inej for the second time. Only this time, she hadn’t been alone.

With all the weight of his nineteen years, Kaz thought he had seen and felt everything, that there was no form of pain or suffering left unknown to him. But that night at Wylan and Jesper’s, Kaz had discovered a whole new kind of torture as he’d watched Bajan stretch his arm over the back of Inej’s chair, or brush his nose against her cheek when he leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and Kaz’s fingers had itched for his knives every time Adem had put his hand on her knee. Kaz had ended up leaving early, skipping dessert altogether, and had made his way back to the Slat in a hurry. The dinner had left him feeling more alone and angry than he had in years—and ashamed too, of the new and primal, almost territorial need that had suddenly overcome him.

It didn’t help either that Bajan was absolutely _right_ for Inej. Suli like her, he had dark eyes to match her own, silky black hair, and the soft, elegant hands of a musician which he felt no need to cover. He was charming, easy-going and smart, his natural gentleness the perfect counterpoint to Inej’s unwavering strength, and he reeked of goodness and honour.

Kaz and Jeroen reached the outskirts of the Warehouse District and turned left, leaving the hustle and bustle of the Barrel behind. Here, the streets were completely deserted, and the only noise was the sound of their feet treading the pavement, and the regular tapping of Kaz’s cane on the cobblestones. It was a dreadful night, damp and misty, and the eerily shadows cast by the pale moonlight seemed to take on a life of their own.

Kaz became suddenly aware that Jeroen had stopped walking behind him. He turned around, only to see Jeroen standing in the middle of the street, his mouth set, his eyes fierce. Shadows and cold light fell across him.

“What is it?” Kaz asked.

A ray of moonlight reverberated off the blade in Jeroen’s hand, but before Kaz could react, the young man had closed the distance between them and a sharp, piercing pain shot through Kaz’s abdomen. He let out a low grunt and dropped his cane, feeling the warm blood pooling on his shirt.

“Pekka Rollins sends his regards,” Jeroen whispered in his ear, giving the knife in Kaz’s side a sharp twist before pulling the blade roughly from his body. 

Kaz did not try to stop him as Jeroen scurried off the street and disappeared into the night. Instead, he fell to his knees, his vision blurring as he pressed his gloved hand to the oozing wound. He could feel his consciousness slipping and all he wanted was to lie down on the cold ground, and let the world disappear around him.

Why fight it? What was he so desperate to live for anyway? It was a sly death, guileful, fitting really, a sorry end to a very sorry life. Gutted by one of his own men, and left to bleed out in the street, with no one to murmur reassuring words or stroke his hair gently as he closed his eyes. Alone, as he had almost always been. _May the Saints have mercy_ , he prayed despite himself.

_Inej_.

The thought alone seemed to bring him back to the world of the living. Kaz picked up his cane, and forced himself to his feet, clutching his side in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. If Pekka Rollins was back, he might not be the only one in danger. Ignoring the onslaught of pain, Kaz staggered down the streets in the direction of the financial district, using his coat to keep his bloody wound hidden from view.

He made his way to the Van Eck Mansion in a haze, each step an impossible effort as he fought not to black out. _Move_ , he told himself as he leaned on the wall of the Geldrenner Hotel. _You’re not done yet_. Knuckles white on the head of his cane, Kaz hauled himself forwards, focusing on the dark shape of the familiar mansion towering in the distance. _Just a few more steps_.

He pounded on the door rather than knocked, and made sure his wound was covered before Jesper opened the door, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Inej?” Kaz blurted out by way of greeting, his voice taut.

“Well, hello to you too,” Jesper quipped. The sharpshooter’s grin faltered slightly when he took in Kaz’s state. “You’re okay? You don’t look too good.”

In response, Kaz shot him a sharp look that meant he had no time for questions.

“She’s upstairs,” Jesper sighed, as he moved aside to let him in. 

Kaz crossed the threshold and walked towards the staircase slowly, doing his best to stand as straight as possible and to make his steps as steady as he could, his bloody glove tucked safely under his coat. 

His cane was already on the first step when he heard Jesper’s voice echoing through the hall. “She’s not alone,” he tried to warn, but Kaz climbed the stairs anyway.


	2. INEJ

Inej’s soft giggles turned into a low moan as Adem’s lips found her neck and left a trail of hot kisses all the way down to her collarbone. It was still strange for her not to recoil when Adem touched her, not to flinch between his arms but to crave their embrace instead, to actually enjoy the press of his body against hers as they lay in her bed at the Van Eck Mansion. 

She had no idea when it had happened exactly, but Inej had finally regained control of her body, reclaimed it as her own and not Tante Heleen’s. Kaz had taught her to fight, to see herself as a weapon and not as a prey; he had taught her to see her body as an armour, strong and dangerous. But Adem had taught her to see it as a gift, a source of pleasure she had never suspected.

Inej had thought that life had no more surprises in store for her, but falling for Adem had caught her off guard. With Kaz it had been uncertain and sinuous, a slow, torturous burn, an exhausting game of push-and-pull, like the incessant swash and backwash of the waves. With Adem, it had happened all at one, as if he had just knocked on the door of her heart one day and she had simply let him in.

Inej had never expected to see him again after the exchange at Goedmelbridge, nor had she wanted to. He had been her jailor, her interrogator, Van Eck’s silent accomplice, and no matter how gentle he’d been with her, he had still done nothing to help her. 

Bajan had been the one to seek her out the last time she had been in Ketterdam. She was just leaving the Slat, silent tears streaming down her face after her bitter goodbye with Kaz— _Is that what it was?_ , she wondered, _goodbye?_ —when she heard faint footsteps behind her.

“Miss Ghafa?” a voice called out from the shadows. 

Sankt Petyr was in her hand faster than she could blink, the short blade shining in the moonlight, beautiful and deadly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Palms raised to prove he was unarmed, a young man stepped tentatively into the light, and Inej recognised him instantly.

“ _You_ ,” she snarled, her voice dripping with contempt as the memory of her captivity at Eil Komedie submerged her. Inej sheathed her knife but stayed on her guard. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” said Inej, already turning away. 

She wasn’t interested. Her conversation with Kaz still lay heavy on her chest and Bajan was not worthy of her attention. _Kadema mehim_. Those were the last words she had spoken to him—the worst possible kind of denunciation for the Suli—and she had nothing more to add.

Before she could leave however, Bajan grabbed her arm, hard enough to stop her, but not so hard that she couldn’t break away if she wanted. “Please,” he insisted.

Inej yielded and led him further down the canal to the Crow Club. If she was going to listen, she would do it on her own turf. Pim ushered them in with a friendly smile, and they sat down at an oval table in one of the private gambling parlors. Bajan looked around, eyes perusing the area, his brow furrowed and his nose scrunched up in an expression that Inej could only describe as half-curious, half-disgusted. Evidently, the Crow Club did not quite meet the music teacher’s standards.

Inej drummed her fingers impatiently on the crimson felt. “I’m listening.”

Bajan cleared his throat and forced himself to meet her eyes. “I heard about your feats on the True Sea, all the slaves you’ve freed.”

In a year, Inej had managed to make quite a name for herself. Legends of _The Wraith_ and her young Suli captain spread from Novyi Zem to Fjerda, from the the Bone Road to the Land Bridge, and slave ships had learned to fear the sight of the sleek little warship on the horizon, its crew just as deadly as its cannons. 

“I want to join your crew,” Bajan said resolutely.

A loud scoff escaped Inej’s lips. She had not been expecting this. Charming, refined, spineless Bajan becoming a pirate? The thought was almost laughable. Hurt flashed briefly across his face but she could tell he wouldn’t be so easily discouraged.

“I mean it,” he plowed on. “Everything you said to me at Eil Komedie, I deserved it. You were right, I was the worst kind of monster: a coward. What I did—what I _didn’t_ do, it keeps me awake at night. You words, they haunt me every day.” 

_Good_ , Inej thought. 

“Would you judge me more kindly if I said I did it for love?”

The question gave her pause. _So he really had loved Alys Van Eck_. _I wonder where she is now._ But Inej kept her reflections to herself, and crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth set in a hard line.

“No, I thought not…” Bajan whispered. He slid his chair a little closer to hers and Inej could see his eyes were shining with an intensity she had never seen before. “I want to make amends. I want to be a better man. A good man. If you’d be willing to give me a chance.”

“ _The Wraith_ hunts slavers, we have no need for a music teacher.”

“You’re right, I’m a _shevrati_.” Inej had to fight back the smile that threatened to curl her lips. _A know-nothing_. She had called him that once before. “But I’m a fast learner and I’m quick on my feet.”

Inej mulled it over. They could always use an extra pair of hands on deck, and, as far as she could tell, Bajan seemed sincere. Though Inej had never been a very forgiving person, she sincerely believed that people could change, grow, become better versions of themselves. She had not always been as brave and strong as she was now. In fact, once, not so long ago, she had just been a frightened fourteen-year-old Suli girl, who cowered and shivered just at the sound of Tante Heleen’s voice and who cried herself to sleep every night. Kaz had given her the opportunity to reinvent herself; perhaps she could offer Bajan the same. Besides, if she had found a way to fall for the Bastard of the Barrel despite everything he had done, surely she could give this man in front of her a second chance.

Without a word, Inej rose from her chair and crossed the parlor to the exit. “Fifth Harbour, berth twenty-two,” she said at last, standing in the doorway. “We leave tomorrow at noon.”

“So soon?” Bajan asked, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” said Inej. “There’s nothing left for me in Ketterdam.”

“I’ll be there.”

He came as promised the next day to join _The Wraith_ ’s crew, and, much to Inej’s surprise, Bajan never gave her a reason to regret it. He wasn’t the most skilled fighter, but under her instruction, he became strong and fast enough that Inej was glad to have him by her side during battle. He quickly learned how to man the sails and how to steer the ship like a true seaman, how to stitch up wounds and tend to bruises, and, at night, once the sun had set and the waves had calmed, he would play the flute or sing a mellow song, and the entire crew would listen and hum along under the shining stars. Bajan’s charm and easy-going nature made him very popular among his fellow sailors, and soon, he and Inej fell into an easy friendship, fanned not only by their shared heritage and beliefs or by the memory of home, but also by the unspoken knowledge that they had both loved someone who had been unable to love them in return.

“What happened between you and Alys?” Inej had finally dared to ask him once. They were standing at the prow of the ship, looking out at the infinite expanse of the True Sea, as the sun cast its last rays of light over the horizon.

“She remarried,” Adem shrugged, though Inej could see the hurt that marked his features. “Another rich merchant. Apparently a music teacher wasn’t enough for her.”

Inej said nothing. She knew better than anyone that her words of sympathy would provide little comfort. Alys had broken his heart, and he had run away, in the hope of finding some solace somewhere out at sea, far from everything that could remind him of her. Was that what Inej was doing as well? Was she running too? 

“Can I ask _you_ a question?” Bajan broke the heavy silence that had settled between them. Inej nodded. He could always ask, but whether or not she would reply was up to her. “What exactly is Kaz Brekker to you?”

He was leaning against the railing now, gentle, patient eyes trained on her as he waited for her to speak. But Inej realised with horror that she had no answer to his question. Who was Kaz to her? A friend? A business partner? An ally? A lover? Inej turned the possibilities over in her head but none of them felt right. Kaz was… _Kaz_.

“I don’t know,” Inej admitted with a sigh. “All I can tell you is that he is a part of me I can’t seem to be able to cut out no matter how much I want to.”

“Perhaps I can help you,” Adem offered earnestly, and, for the first time, Inej thought that while Kaz was her past and present, maybe he didn’t have to be her future.

Things shifted so naturally between her and Adem after that that Inej barely noticed it. He had always been overtly flirtatious but she stopped minding, and found herself longing to catch his eyes across the deck, or to brush her knuckles against his own on the railing. He never pushed her or pressed her, but he made no mystery of his feelings, and Inej found it refreshing. He admired her, her strength and her courage, he valued her, desired her, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. So when he had asked her one day if he could kiss her, standing at the tiller of the ship, sailing off the coast of Weddle, Inej had said yes, and had finally discovered what it felt like to be properly loved.

Gently, Adem untucked her tunic from her breeches and his mouth found its way to the warm, soft skin of Inej’s stomach, only to be interrupted by a soft knock on the door. She let out a growl of frustration and felt Adem smile against her belly. 

_I’m going to kill Jesper_ , she thought as he rose to answer and she did her best to look at least presentable. 

But when Bajan opened the door, it wasn’t the tall Zemeni sharpshooter she had expected standing in the doorway, but the lean figure of a pale-skinned boy dressed in a sleek, dark suit. 

“Kaz,” Inej breathed out as she sat upright on the bed, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. There was little doubt as to what she and Adem had been doing, but if the thought bothered Kaz, he didn’t let it show.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking directly at Inej. His voice sounded off, his breathing was ragged, and she realised he was bracing the door frame rather than leaning on it. For a second, she thought he might be drunk. 

“I’ll be downstairs,” Adem took his cue, and disappeared down the hall to give them some privacy.

Kaz limped inside with some difficulty, lurching with each step, and pointed at the armchair in the corner of Inej’s room. “Do you mind?”

Inej shook her head. 

“What business, Kaz?” she asked once he was seated, his cane resting across his thighs.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.”

She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “What about _you_? You look terrible.” 

He truly did. From up close, she could see he wasn’t just pale, he was livid. All colour seemed to have drained from his face, and his brow was glistening with sweat.

He ignored her question. “Did you run into any trouble today?”

“No, Kaz, _I’m fine_.” Inej could feel her impatience and her irritation growing. Why did he always have to talk in riddles and half-truths? Why couldn’t he just say things outright and save them both some time? “What’s going on?” she pressed.

“Pekka Rollins is back.”

“What? How do you know?”

Kaz shifted in his chair and opened the left side of his coat. Inej’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of his blood-drenched shirt and the fresh wound on his abdomen. “Because he just had me stabbed,” he said.

“Saints, Kaz!” Inej exclaimed, dropping to the floor beside him to get a closer look at the damage. “Why didn’t you go to a medik?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Believe me,” he said, wincing as her fingers grazed over the cut. “If Rollins wanted me dead, I’d be dead. I’ve seen Jeroen with a blade. He doesn’t miss.”

_Jeroen_. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Inej couldn’t conjure up a face. She hadn’t been part of the Dregs for so long. She used to know everything that went on in the Barrel, she knew every street like the back of her hand, every shadowy corner, every convenient gutter. There was no name that didn’t ring a bell, no face that she couldn’t pick out of a crowd. Ketterdam used to be her home. Now she felt like just another tourist. _Is that really such a bad thing?_ , a voice echoed in her head.

Kaz raised his hand slowly, reaching out to her, and his gloved fingers took hold of the braid that hung over her left shoulder, his thumb roaming over the plaits absentmindedly. His eyes were glassy, his eyelids drooping.

“Why did you come here, Kaz?” Inej asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He managed to reply just before he passed out, “I needed to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented or subscribed so far! Your feedback means the world.


	3. KAZ

_Pekka Rollins sends his regards._

Kaz woke up with a jolt, a lance of stabbing pain blazing through his abdomen. He had no idea where he was or how he’d got there, until he caught sight of Inej’s face and the memories from the night before poured in. 

“It’s just me,” she tried to reassure him, taking in his panicked state.

He was lying in her bed, his head propped up on one of her pillows. She had brought a chair over to sit by his side. He realised someone must have taken off his shirt and shoes, and he could feel the tides rising at the thought of someone touching him, even though he had been unconscious. His wound was still throbbing but the bleeding had stopped, and it was covered with a clean bandage. 

“How long was I out?” he asked, shaking himself out of his torpor. 

“Just a few hours,” Inej said. “It’s still early.”

He felt a sharp twinge of pain as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows but he fought through it. He couldn’t just keep lying here all day. If Pekka Rollins was back, he needed an action plan. Rollins had sent Kaz a message last night, and he wasn’t going to stop there.

“You really scared us, you know.”

“I told you it was nothing,” Kaz said dismissively, and Inej let out a mirthless laugh, as if she hadn’t expected anything else from him. He suddenly realised how ungrateful he was being and felt a pang of guilt. “Who patched me up?”

“Adem.”

_Of course_.

“Well, you’ll have to thank him for me.” He didn’t quite manage to keep the scorn from his tone.

Ignoring the onslaught of pain in his side, Kaz sat up and leaned against the headboard. No matter where he laid his eyes, he couldn’t escape Inej’s watchful, attentive gaze. She looked beautiful in the pale morning light that filtered through the large windows, and tired too. Kaz couldn’t help but wonder if she had stayed up all night watching him—and then he wondered whether or not he wished she had, and why it seemed to matter to him so damn much.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Why did you come here last night, Kaz?”

She had asked him already, and he had avoided the answer, just as he avoided it now. 

“I needed to make sure you were all safe.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. “Rollins wants revenge, and that means he might go after the people I...” 

Whatever he had meant to say, the words died on his lips. 

Inej didn’t push. “You could have sent someone.” She was right, of course. If he had been so worried, Kaz could have just sent one of his men to the Van Eck Mansion while someone tended to his wound. It would have been faster, not to mention safer. “You could have told Jesper at the door,” Inej added.

Kaz had no clever retort, no quip to offer, no reasonable explanation for his actions. Coming to Wylan’s had been an irrational decision driven by impulse and emotion, which was very unlike him. The truth was on the tip of his tongue. Why not just tell her? He had nothing to lose, and if Pekka Rollins was back and out for his blood, he might be running out of time.

“I thought I was dying,” Kaz began to explain, willing his eyes to meet her own. “I was bleeding out in the middle of the street, and I was sure it was the end. All I wanted was to close my eyes, but a single thought kept gnawing at me, keeping me awake. Loud and insistent.” Inej’s face was impenetrable, as serene and composed as it always was, but Kaz could tell she hung on his every word, listening avidly. “Do you know what that thought was?”

Inej shook her head almost imperceptibly, as if she was afraid Kaz would stop talking if she moved too abruptly. 

“That I couldn’t die without having kissed you, Inej.” 

As soon as the words left his lips, it was like the entire room had stilled around him. Time had come to a stop, and the world outside the windows had ceased to exist. The silence stretched on for what felt like hours, tugging at his edges, until Inej’s voice finally breathed life back into the room. 

“Kaz—” But whatever words she was about to utter, Kaz cut her short, taking her face in his hands and crashing his mouth to hers before he could think better of it. He had imagined kissing Inej a thousand times—sometimes long and hard, sometimes short and sweet—but none of his dreams lived up to the reality, to the feel of her soft lips beneath his own, or the taste of her on his tongue, as sweet and intoxicating as _jurda_. His thumb stroked her cheek, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He was about to break away when he felt Inej deepening the kiss, her cool hands slowly trailing up his bare chest, hesitant but curious. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. Kaz could feel the water pooling around his ankles, rising up slowly, threatening to engulf him. His heart was beating like a hammer under Inej’s fingers, and he felt dizzy, disgust mingling with desire in his mind. Every single cell in his body, every parcel of his skin was screaming at him to pull away. But he didn’t listen—he would let the waves take him if it meant he got to keep kissing her. He would happily drown just to have her in his arms a second longer. 

There was a small cough, and Inej jumped away from him, her eyes wide and shifty, her cheeks bright red like the roof of a Shu temple. Jesper was standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, his expression unusually somber. Kaz hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” the sharpshooter quipped, glaring at Kaz.

“We should get you something to eat,” said Inej, as she scrambled to her feet and practically ran out of the room. 

Kaz took a deep breath and settled back against the headboard. The water was receding, but he could still feel the ghost of Inej’s lips on his own. 

Jesper sat down in the vacant chair and, for a long while, neither of them spoke. Until, finally, Kaz couldn’t take Jesper’s accusing stare anymore. 

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

Jesper leaned back in his chair. “She’s happy, Kaz,” he said. “Don’t fuck this up for her.”

Kaz knew he was being selfish. Inej was with Bajan now. She was happy—happier than she would ever be with him. Hadn’t he said once that her happiness, her safety, were more important than anything? Inej had always been here for him. She had made his life better in more ways than he could count. He owed it to her now to let her go.

“I won’t,” Kaz said. 

It was a promise.

* * *

He must have fallen back asleep because the next time Kaz opened his eyes, the room was basked in orange glow and the sun was low in the sky. He was alone, but he could hear a faint murmur of voices coming from downstairs. He couldn’t believe he had lost the whole day napping when he should have been thinking up battle plans. Who knew how long Rollins had planned his revenge? Kaz was already two steps behind and he couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Not to mention the Dregs would be looking for him.

His clothes had been cleaned and ironed—except his shirt, which had been replaced by a fresh one he assumed had belonged to Jan Van Eck—and laid out on the armchair for him. His cane was propped up against the wall on the side of the door. He dressed quickly, wincing with every move, and snapped it up on his way out.

The voices grew louder the closer Kaz got to the sitting room, and he could tell the conversation was heated. 

“—so ready to stick your neck out for him, but when was the last time _he_ stuck his neck out for any of you?” he heard Bajan argue as he stepped through the door.

Kaz tapped his cane against the wooden floor to make his presence known, and four pairs of eyes flew to him instantly. Jesper was sprawled out lazily across the settee, his long limbs sticking out from all sides, while Bajan was seated cross-legged on the large sofa—his poise a sharp contrast to Jesper’s nonchalance. Wylan was chewing on his thumb nervously as he paced around the room. Kaz’s gaze landed on Inej, perched on one of the windowsills with a knee tucked up, her cheek resting against it. He hadn’t seen her since this morning, since he had kissed her, and the urge to go to her was almost too powerful to resist.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Inej told him, her brow furrowed in a familiar frown.

“I’m not going to stay holed up in here waiting for Rollins to come pick me up,” Kaz said. “I’m going back to the Slat.”

“And what stops him from getting to you there?”

“Nothing,” he conceded. “But this time I’ll be waiting for him.”

“Outstanding plan,” said Jesper mockingly.

Kaz ignored the jab. “You four should get out of the country for a while. I don’t want you mixed up in this—whatever _this_ is.” 

“Wait—”

“Jesper, Wylan, I’ll have a boat ready for you in Fifth Harbour by midnight tonight. It will take you and Marya to Novyi Zem where you’ll stay with Jes’s father.” Kaz bobbed his chin in Inej’s direction. “How fast can you get _The Wraith_ ready?”

“A few hours,” she replied. “But, Kaz—”

“Good. You and Adem should set sail as soon as possible.” He spoke to everyone then. “You’ll have to stay on your guard until then. We have no idea what Pekka is planning, and he might try to come after you too. The safest—”

“ _Kaz_ ,” Inej repeated, loud enough to catch Kaz’s attention this time. 

He stopped talking and looked at the troubled faces around the room. Why was no one moving? Why was no one packing? They should be getting ready to leave instead of watching him with dumbfounded expressions like a bunch of schoolchildren. 

“We’re not leaving you here to face Rollins alone,” said Inej firmly.

Kaz shook his head. “This is not a discussion. I’m the one who started this thing with Pekka. This is my fight. I won’t ask you to risk your lives for me.”

This wasn’t just another job. It wasn’t an assignment, and there would be no _kruge_ waiting for them at the end of it. This was personal—Kaz’s very own war.

“You’re not asking. We’re offering,” Inej corrected. “Right, Jes?”

Jesper sat up straighter, his fingers roaming over his pearl-handled revolvers. He was fidgety, but Kaz couldn’t tell if it was from worry or excitement. 

“You know I can never walk away from a promising fight. Or a losing hand. Count me in.” His smile was dazzling when he turned to Wylan, as if they were talking about taking a picnic trip to Girecht. “Wy?”

Wylan stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “I know I’m going to regret this,” he said, “but I’m in. Of course I’m in.”

Kaz was taken aback when he heard the sound of Bajan’s clear voice echoing through the room next. “Whatever you need,” Bajan said, holding Kaz’s gaze, “I’ll help however I can.”

_Good, honourable Bajan_ , Kaz thought, though not without resentment. _Looks like I misjudged you. You might not be so spineless after all._

Kaz didn’t know what to say—a feeling he wasn’t well-accustomed to. A rush of gratitude overwhelmed him as he looked at the four faces glancing back at him. These people were ready to risk their lives to help him, to put everything aside and rush into battle for him, and Kaz couldn’t help but wonder, should the roles ever be reversed, if he would be so eager to return the favour.

“But we need a better plan than just waiting for Rollins to show up,” said Wylan. “No offense, Kaz.”

Jesper drew one of his guns and spun it expertly in his hand. “I say we take the fight to him.”

“Do we have any idea where he is?” Inej inquired.

Kaz slumped down on the sofa with a shake of his head and stretched his bad leg. “As far as I know, he has no property left in Kerch. No business, no house, no warehouse. He liquidated all his assets after the Council revoked his license to operate. He could be hiding anywhere.”

“A big fish like that doesn’t just disappear,” Jesper interjected. “It always leaves a trail.”

“What about Jeroen?” Inej offered from her perch on the window ledge. “We know he works for Rollins. He has to make contact somehow. I could shadow him, see where it leads.”

“If he hasn’t gone to ground already,” Kaz said. “But I’m willing to bet he’s not the only Dime Lion who’s still loyal to Rollins. Others might secretly be working for him.”

“How many Dime Lions joined the Dregs after Rollins left?”

“Many. Too many.” Most of the Dime Lions had come knocking on Kaz’s door after Rollins had fled the city, and he’d had no reason to turn them down. Only a handful had chosen to follow Pekka to the Wandering Isle—and they had been handsomely-rewarded for their loyalty—and very few had defected to the other gangs. Barrel thugs valued strength above everything, and Kaz had been the one to best Rollins after all.

“And how many do you trust?”

“None.”

Inej shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll have to watch them all.”

“That could take weeks,” Wylan commented.

“If you have a better idea, we’re all ears,” Jesper chimed in.

Kaz raised his hand to silence them all, the shape of a plan forming in his mind. “Inej, you’ll shadow the Dime Lions,” he settled, his voice commanding. “I’ll let you know if any of them are acting suspicious around the Slat.” He turned to look at Bajan then. “Bajan, you’re a sailor.” _Of sorts_ , Kaz wanted to add. “You must have contacts around the harbours—fellow seamen, harbourmasters…”

Bajan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Sure, a few.”

“I need you to find out everything you can about Pekka Rollins—when and how he got into Ketterdam.”

“How is it going to help us find him?”

“Someone like Pekka doesn’t just waltz into the city without anyone noticing—without _me_ noticing. Someone must have smuggled him in. I want to know who. They might still be helping him.” 

Bajan’s eyes darted towards Inej and then back at Kaz, and he gave a curt nod of agreement. 

“Wylan,” Kaz said, “I need you to check every hotel in the city for anyone matching Rollins’s description. It’s a long shot, but we still need to make sure.”

“I’m on it,” Wylan agreed.

“You’re a rich merchant with a very famous name—I doubt the hotel managers will give you much trouble. They’ll give you all the information you want about their clientele without a second thought.”

“What about me?” Jesper asked, not bothering to hide his excitement.

“I need you around the Slat and the Crow Club,” Kaz replied, and Jesper deflated instantly. “I could use a second pair of ears to sniff out the Dime Lions who are still loyal to Rollins. I’m their boss, I can’t get too close, but you can.”

Jesper shifted in his seat, obviously uneasy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

He had been avoiding the Barrel since the auction, especially the temptations of the East Stave. Kaz knew Jesper didn’t trust himself not to run into the closest gambling hall and play all his _kruge_ away, but everyone had to face their demons one day.

“I guess we’ll find out,” said Kaz, and he rose to his feet. 

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all they had. Hopefully, they would find Pekka’s hideout before he made his move. But until then, they would all be out in the open—easy targets right for the picking. 

“It’s not too late to back out.” Kaz gave them all a pointed look, but he saw no doubt in their eyes.

“No mourners,” Wylan said.

Inej, Jesper and Kaz replied in unison, “No funerals.” 

Only Bajan remained silent.

* * *

Kaz suspected an ulterior motive when Bajan offered to walk him out, but he didn’t mind—he was glad for a chance to talk alone.

“Thank you,” Kaz said as they approached the front door. “For offering to help with Rollins. I really appreciate it.” 

He extended his gloved hand for Bajan to shake, but the young Suli man made no move to take it. 

“Look,” he began, with a severity in his voice that caught Kaz off guard. “I only agreed to help you because, for some reason I can’t fathom, Inej cares about you. She seems to believe that you’re worth it.”

Kaz dropped his hand. “But you obviously don’t.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Bajan admitted. “Inej trusts you, but it doesn’t mean I have to.”

The corners of Kaz’s lips twitched up and his eyes twinkled with mischief. At least Bajan didn't beat around the bush. “The question is, can I trust _you_?”

“I’m not the murderer and the thief, here.” Bajan’s tone was pleasant, but his words were as sharp and cutting as a honed blade.

“True,” Kaz conceded, straightening the lapel of his coat with one swift gesture. “But you’ve been on the wrong side before.”

Inej may have forgiven Bajan’s previous missteps, but Kaz didn’t forgive, and he certainly never forgot. Bajan had worked for Jan Van Eck, he’d been Inej’s jailor, and he had stood idly by while the old man threatened to smash her legs with a mallet. Kaz wasn’t about to let that go.

Bajan let out a small laugh. “And I assume the wrong side is always the one that’s against you?”

“Something like that.”

“You know, I wonder…” Bajan looked back towards the sitting room. “These three people in there, they would happily lay down their lives for you. Inej most of all. Why is that?”

Kaz’s hands settled on the head of his cane. “Blame it on my endearing personality,” he deadpanned.

“Do they think you’d do the same for them?”

The question rattled Kaz, but he didn’t let it show. It was the same one he had asked himself only minutes ago. Jesper, Wylan, and Inej hadn’t even blinked before agreeing to help him—no strings attached, no questions asked. But it was always something for something with Kaz. Would he ever be willing to risk his life so selflessly? He could almost hear Inej’s voice. _Goodness is not goodness that seeks reward_. But then again, Kaz was never good.

He reached for the handle and opened the front door. Before he stepped through it, he turned to Bajan. His smile was sly. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“I imagine I’m hardly the first.”

Kaz was already out the door when he shot back, “I’ve made a habit of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Please continue to comment, like and subscribe, it really warms my heart.  
> Next chapter I think is my favourite, because it's 100% Kanej
> 
> PS: Have you seen the new stills from the show that leaked today? April 23rd cannot come fast enough.  
> Hopefully we might get a trailer at the IGN Fan Fest panel on Friday.


	4. INEJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references Leigh Bardugo's short story "The Too-Clever Fox", which you can find in _The Language of Thorns_.  
> I know it is usually associated with Nikolai, but I thought it really fitted Kaz as well.

Inej gathered momentum and jumped, landing soundlessly on the familiar roof of the Slat. It had taken her a few days to get reacquainted with the peaked roofs and jumbled chimneys of Ketterdam, with the rough and solid feel of the bricks and tiles under her hands and beneath her feet, but she realised now how much she’d missed it. The solitude. The quiet. The fear of falling, yet the unshakable certainty that she wouldn’t. She had missed the way her body seemed to bend gravity to its will, forcing it to do its bidding. She wasn’t climbing—she was flying.

Beams of light from the streetlamps pierced the darkness, and Inej could make out the busy crowd bustling by the canals below. It was late; the Barrel was filled with peddlers, drunkards, harlots, and tourists looking for a bit of fun, but from her perch, the city looked eerily quiet, and disturbingly beautiful. She let herself slide down the slope of the roof, until she reached one of the little mansard windows that looked into the attic rooms. It was ajar, and light filtered through the panes.

Inej stayed hidden in the shadows as she peered inside. Kaz was sitting at his old desk, his hat and his gloves discarded to the side. At first, she thought he was working, going over the day’s figures, until she realised he wasn’t looking at the books in front of him. He was gazing absentmindedly into the distance, thinking, his knuckles brushing against his lips, and Inej thought she had never seen him look so tired.

She would have given anything to read his thoughts right now. Was he thinking about her? _No, you foolish girl_ , Inej scolded herself. _He’s probably just thinking about Rollins_. But still, she hoped. They hadn’t talked about the kiss—in fact, if Jesper hadn’t seen them, Inej might have thought she had imagined the whole thing.

That day, Jesper had found her hiding in the kitchen, where Inej had hoped no one would come looking for her. She was seated at a small table, head buried in her hands, a cup of now cold tea before her, when she heard him slip into a chair next to her. She uncovered her face and looked up at him—his usual grin had been replaced by a deep frown and she felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

“What was that, Inej?” His tone was grave but not harsh.

“I wish I could tell you.”

Jesper leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Need I remind you that you’re already in a relationship?”

“I know,” said Inej, rubbing her brow woefully. “I know.”

“I thought you loved Adem.”

“I do! But…” Her voice trailed off, words escaping her. She gave Jesper a meaningful look that she hoped would be enough.

“Inej…” He spoke her name like a warning.

She heaved a sigh, as if bracing herself for the words she was about to utter. “It’s Kaz, Jes,” Inej said, as if it was the answer to everything. Maybe it was. 

Something akin to understanding had dawned on Jesper’s face, and he hadn’t said more. Instead, with a sadness in his eyes that had matched her own, he had grabbed her hand and given it a tight squeeze. 

Watching Kaz now, Inej couldn’t help but wonder: did he regret kissing her? Had he hated it—the feel of her lips on his own, the touch of her hands on his chest? Or was he aching to do it again just as much as she was? _You love Adem_ , she reminded herself sternly. _Kaz can give you nothing_.

She had half a mind to turn around and leave when she heard Kaz’s voice call out to her, “I know you’re out here.”

Inej hauled herself onto the window ledge and dropped inside the room, her black brows furrowed in frustration. She could never sneak up on Kaz. “How? I didn’t make a sound.”

“Precisely,” he said. 

She fell onto the chair opposite him and studied his face. From this distance, she could see the dark circles under his eyes, the deep hollow of his cheeks, and she wondered when was the last time he had slept. 

“Anything new?”

“No,“ she sighed. “Reuban was a dead end. He’s clean.”

It was the fifth former Dime Lion Inej had trailed, and so far she hadn’t found anything suspicious about any of them. As far as she could tell, they were all loyal to Kaz and the Dregs. Everyone was growing weary. It had been nine days since Kaz had been stabbed, and though his wound was healing nicely, they were no closer to finding Rollins. Adem had spoken to everyone he knew at the harbours, but no one had seen or heard anything; Wylan had checked with every hotel in town, but none of them had any client matching Pekka’s description; and while Jesper did his best to keep his ear to the ground, so far he hadn’t learned anything about Rollins. Inej was feeling antsy, like she was playing a game of hide and seek and she was losing.

Though he tried to conceal it, she could tell Kaz was worried too. The threat of Rollins’s vengeance was hanging over his head like a sword of Damocles, and there was nothing Kaz hated more than feeling cornered. He let out a heavy breath. His hands, bare and pale, rested on his desk and Inej tried not to stare at his slender lockpick’s fingers. She wanted to comfort him, offer some kind of reassurance. Perhaps if she…

He drew his hand away as soon as her fingers brushed against his, and Inej ignored the pain that stabbed at her heart. She tried to remind herself that it wasn’t about her, that Kaz just wasn’t ready for this kind of intimacy. 

Some part of her had always imagined that she would be the one to help Kaz heal, the one to put all his broken pieces back together and he hers, that they would face their fears together and take these steps side by side. But now she was so far ahead of him she wasn’t even sure she would still see him if she turned back. Maybe he would never catch up to her now. Maybe he no longer wanted to.

And yet he had kissed her.

Inej’s hand fell back in her lap. “We’ll keep looking, we’ll find something.”

She felt the air shift around the room, and the next second Kaz was on his feet, anger and despair clawing at his face as he knocked the stacks of paper off his desk with a violent sweep of his arm. Inej tried to remain impassive, waiting for the storm to pass. She had seen Kaz lose his temper before, and it was usually as brief as it was violent.

“Damn it!” he bellowed, slamming his clenched fists on the now empty desk. “No one just disappears! How?!”

“Have you ever considered that maybe—”

“That maybe Jeroen was just a red herring and Rollins is not back at all?” Kaz ran a hand through his hair and slumped back in his chair, his anger deflating already. “Of course I have.”

Inej narrowed her eyes, searching his face. “But you don’t believe it.”

“I know he’s here. I can feel it.” There was such fierceness in his gaze, such certainty in his voice, that it was enough to dispel all her doubts if she ever had any. “And each day we waste looking for him is a day he spends perfecting his revenge. Planning. Recruiting.”

“We don’t have a choice. It’s either that or do nothing and wait for him to kill you.”

Kaz said nothing for a while, but there was an edge to his silence and Inej knew it meant nothing good. Whatever he was about to tell her, she was going to hate it. 

“I could draw him out.”

“How?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

“A parley.”

She sat up straighter in her chair and shook her head vehemently. “Then you’d be facing him unarmed. It’s madness.”

The rules of parley were clear. The parties involved were allowed to be seconded by two soldiers but weapons of any kind were strictly forbidden. A parley was meant to be a peaceful negotiation, taking place on neutral ground, and any act of violence was considered an infringement of the code of honour. If a party violated neutral territory, then the other was allowed to retaliate, and that’s when things usually got ugly.

Kaz got up once more and limped to one of the windows overlooking the city, his hands joined behind his back as his eyes danced over the shadowy rooftops and dimly-lit streets. “If Rollins hasn’t made his move yet, it’s because he knows he’s outnumbered.” 

_Or he’s trying to mess with your head,_ Inej couldn’t help but think. 

“Right now he’s weak and hiding, biding his time. But the longer we wait, the stronger he gets. At least with a parley I can control the odds. It’d be three against three, I could take him.” Kaz glanced at her over his shoulder, sensing her disapproval. “Do you have a better plan?”

“That is not a plan, it’s a deathwish.”

“I’ve been playing this game my whole life, Inej. It’s time I see it through to the end. Win or lose.” 

Inej was taken aback by how old Kaz looked then, as if he had aged years in a moment’s passing. He was no longer a boy, fuelled by anger and vengeance, eager to make his name and his fortune; he was a very weary man, haunted by the ghosts of his past, hardened by loss and jaded by life. He was a man about to drown.

When she spoke next, Inej’s voice was soft, almost pleading, “You could leave. Leave Ketterdam. Start a new life somewhere. A better life.”

He shook his head and turned his attention back to the specks of light outside his window, stretching as far as the eye could see. “I have given my sweat, my tears and my blood to this city. It’s my home. I’m not leaving it behind.”

“It’s a sewer and a dump, governed by corrupt merchants and filled to the brim with murderers, liars and thieves,” Inej said, her anger rising. “It doesn’t deserve you, and it’s certainly not worth your life.”

Kaz gave her a sad smile, and she felt her heart crack at the sight. “ _I’m_ a murderer, a liar and a thief, Inej. I am exactly what this place deserves.”

“You’re more than that.”

She had spoken so low and Kaz was quiet for so long, she wasn’t sure if he had heard her. He was standing very still, his eyes staring at her without seeing her, his jaw set. But then he took three firm strides across the room and crouched down next to her, black irises peering up at her with an intensity that threw her completely off balance. For a moment, Inej thought he might kiss her again, and she felt her heart hammering in her chest as a bolt of desire shot through her. But he didn’t. Instead, with a gentleness she had rarely seen in him before, he took her hand between his own and kept it there, the tips of his fingers lingering over the pulsepoint at her wrist, grounding him to reality. Inej didn’t dare breathe, afraid that even the smallest movement might set him off. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I am not a good man, Inej,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw like steel on stone.

“I think you want to be,” said Inej.

“I never did a good thing in my life.”

_You saved me_ , Inej thought, _again and again_. “You got me out of the Menagerie, freed me from Tante Heleen.”

Kaz snorted, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Only to bind you to Haskell,” he retorted.

“You taught me how to fight.”

“So I could use it for my own gain.”

“You rescued me from Van Eck.”

“It was a matter of pride.”

Inej tilted her head to the side, watching him closely. Kaz liked to think of himself as utterly without conscience, ruthless to the core, and he had always mocked Inej for trying to wring bits of decency from him. But she had seen it—the heart that beat under all these thick layers of armour, broken but yearning. She could see it right now, tiny glimpses through the cracks. 

Inej thought about all the times he had been kind to her. “You bought my contract from Haskell,” she said. “You got me a ship, you found my parents… Was it pride as well that made you do all these things?”

“Vanity,” he corrected. “I wanted you to adore me.”

“And when you let me go?” she asked, her eyes boring into his. 

Kaz had given her _The Wraith_ , he had helped her find her crew, and, when it had been time for her to leave Ketterdam, he had asked her to come back, but he had never asked her to stay. He wanted her to have her dream, however far away from him it would lead her.

Inej saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. 

“I never let you go, Inej,” he murmured, his voice the rasp of stone on stone.

Kaz got up to his feet and let go of her hand. It felt cold and strangely bare now that it was free of his touch. Inej tried not to dwell on it and forced herself to get back to the matter at hand. The parley. “When?”

Kaz hovered near his chair but didn’t sit down. “Tomorrow night. The sooner the better.”

“I’d like to volunteer to be one of your seconds.”

An amused smile played on his lips. “I appreciate the offer. But you will be long gone by then.”

Inej felt anger bubbling up inside her. He could not mean to send her away? Did he expect her to run for her life while he faced Rollins alone? 

“Kaz, you need people you can trust. You need—”

“What I _need_ ,” he interjected, “is for you to do as I say. Tomorrow, you and Bajan will take _The Wraith_ and leave Ketterdam.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she asked, her voice full of defiance, “Is that an order?” 

“You don’t work for me anymore, Inej. I can’t make you do anything. But I am asking you.” 

Kaz looked at her then, and she stared right back at him, their glances battling each other in a silent argument. He wanted her to go, and she was desperate to stay, but there was something else in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. 

He heaved a sigh, summoning his courage, before he added, “When I face Rollins tomorrow, I can’t afford any distraction. I need to be focused. And I can’t be if I’m worried about your safety, constantly wondering if you’re okay.”

“Kaz—”

“ _Please_ , Inej,” he insisted once more. “I need you to be safe.”

For years she had nagged at Kaz to try and get him to say _Please_ and _Thank you_ every once in a while, but now she hated how the word sounded on his lips, and how much power it held over her.

“Fine,” Inej relented. “We’ll set sail tomorrow.”

Whatever Kaz was feeling—relief, sadness, joy?—he hid it well. Without another word, he walked over to the door and opened it. Pim was standing guard outside.

“Boss?”

“I need you to round up the former Dime Lions. I have a message I want them to get to Pekka Rollins.”

“Rollins?” asked Pim, confused.

“Just do it.”

The bruiser turned on his heels and disappeared down the stairs. 

Inej couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. She did not miss working for Kaz—the secrets and half-truths, the orders that sounded more like riddles most days, his incisive tone that cut deeper than blades… Unlike Pim though, she knew exactly what he had in mind tonight: Kaz had no way of reaching out to Rollins and asking him to parley, so he would have to rely on the Dime Lions who might still be loyal to him to relay his invitation. He was going to spread the word wide, and hope it would travel fast once his back was turned.

Kaz returned to his desk and sat down, turning his attention to the ledger. Inej knew it was his way of saying she was dismissed, but tomorrow he would be walking into the lion’s den, and if something went wrong, she might never see him again. She wasn’t quite ready to go. Not like this. 

_What were you expecting?_ a voice echoed in her head. _A farewell party? A parting kiss?_

Kaz didn’t say goodbye.

She rose from her chair and slowly made her way to the open window. _Say something_ , she pleaded to Kaz inwardly. _Ask me to stay_. His silence cut deep.

“For what it’s worth,” Inej said, “I think this is a terrible idea.” She was sitting on the ledge, one leg dangling outside.

Kaz didn’t even look up when he replied, “Your reservations are noted.”

“Are you familiar with the tale of the too-clever fox?” she asked. He leaned back in his chair, darting a curious glance at her, but he didn’t say a word. “He refused to outrun death and thought he could outsmart it instead.” 

_The Too-Clever Fox_ was a popular tale in Ravka, and it had been one of Inej’s favorite as a child. She remembered begging tirelessly for her mother to read it to her over and over again, sometimes twice in a row. It told the story of Koja, a very clever fox who thought he could rely on his wits to weasel his way out of any problem, much like Kaz. He was wrong.

“In the end, the hunter got him.”

“But he survived, if I remember correctly,” Kaz retorted. 

Inej was surprised he knew the tale at all. Had someone read it to him when he was a child, curled up under the covers, like Inej’s mother had done with her? His parents, perhaps. Or his brother. She never could quite picture Kaz as a boy. Did he already have the same raspy tone to his voice? The same sharp lines on his face? Did he use to smile? To laugh? The thought was almost unsettling.

She cast one last look at him and threw her other leg over the ledge. But before she disappeared, she paused to give him a final warning, “Only because he had help, Kaz.”

The beautiful song of a nightingale rose in the black sky as she jumped from the ledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this little Kanej moment. I know I loved writing it!  
> Please continue to like, subscribe, comment and share.
> 
> PS: Who else is excited for tomorrow's panel? Fingers crossed for a trailer!


	5. KAZ

Kaz flexed his hands over the carved crow head of his walking stick as the bells from the Church of Barter began to chime. _Midnight_. The moment of truth. He had no idea if Rollins had received his invitation, and whether or not the old man would even show up if he had. He struck his cane against the cobblestones, signalling to Pim and Keeg to divest themselves of their weapons, and flipped his hat over his head. The great stone arch that marked the eastern entrance to the Exchange loomed over them. _Enjent, Voorhent, Almhent_. Industry, Integrity, Prosperity. Kaz had a very disagreeable sense of _déjà vu._ He gave Anika, Rotty and Roeder a quick nod, and they scattered into the thick blanket of fog shrouding the building to follow their orders—Anika and Roeder would watch the western entrance, and Rotty would stand guard here at the eastern entrance, just in case Rollins had the unfortunate idea to call in for back ups.

The steady thump of Kaz’s cane cut through the night as he and his seconds made their way through the central courtyard of the Exchange. The light of a lantern was burning bright in the middle of the square, and a shiver of fear and excitement went down Kaz’s spine. 

Rollins was here. 

As soon as he caught sight of the familiar green-striped waistcoat and tuffy sideburns, Kaz’s ears began to ring and he clutched the head of his cane even tighter. Upstanding merchant Jakob Hertzoon, former gang leader and impresario Pekka Rollins, his archenemy, the man that had haunted Kaz’s dreams since he was ten years old was standing before him once more, an ugly sneer etched onto his ruddy face. 

_One of us dies tonight_ , Kaz promised to himself. _Tonight, it ends_.

Rollins was flanked by Jeroen on his left, and Doughty on his right. Two bruisers, but nothing Pim and Keeg couldn’t handle. Jeroen was a fine fighter, but not quite as deadly without his knives, and Doughty, although physically impressive, was a bit heavy on his feet. Kaz felt some of his confidence returning. 

Neither him nor Rollins said a word as their seconds patted each other down, but just as Kaz was about to open his arms to let Doughty search him, Rollins nodded towards the cane in his hand. 

“Who do you take me for, lad? A fool like Geels?” A sly grin spread across the old man’s face. “The stick goes.”

Begrudgingly, Kaz handed his cane to Doughty, who tossed it carelessly across the courtyard. Kaz clenched his jaw. He would kill him first. The Dime Lion patted him down roughly, and Kaz couldn’t stop the low grunt that emanated from his throat when Doughty poked at the still healing wound on his side.

“I see you got my message,” Rollins said.

“A letter would have sufficed,” Kaz replied through gritted teeth, readjusting the lapels of his coat. He felt vulnerable and exposed without his walking stick, but he was determined not to show it, and to ignore the pang of unease roiling through him. 

“Clear,” Pim announced once he was done frisking Rollins.

The seconds took their places on either side of their bosses, two paces behind, silent but watchful. The parley had begun.

“I’m glad to see you got mine too,” said Kaz, forcing his lips into an easy smirk. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Rollins chuckled and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat. “And pass up a chance to teach you a lesson? I should thank you, really. You’ve saved me a lot of hassle. Here I was, racking my brains for a way to get past your goons, and you come knocking on my door, like the cocky little bastard you are.”

“If you wanted me dead, why not just get Jeroen to do it?” Kaz asked with a shrug. “Or any other Dime Lion I’m sure you’ve still got working for you.”

There was a malicious glint in Rollins’s unblinking eyes when he replied, “Because I wanted to do it myself. I’m old-fashioned that way, see. I like to see the look on my enemy’s face when I destroy them.” He shrugged off his jacket and passed it over to Doughty. “Which is why I’m so glad you suggested this parley.”

Kaz glanced down to Rollins protruding belly. “You seem awfully confident.”

“Well, confidence is the prerogative of men who have nothing to lose.”

“Like you?” Kaz asked, coking one of his eyebrows.

Rollins’s grin didn’t falter as he unbuttoned his emerald cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. “My son is away and safe, out of your reach,” he said. “Everything else, you already took from me.” 

_What about your life?_ Kaz was itching to add. 

“You, on the other hand, have a lot to lose, Brekker. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

A sliver of fear crept into Kaz’s mind and he swallowed hard. Did Rollins have a secret card in his hand? Had he missed something? Inej was safe. _The Wraith_ had set sail earlier tonight—he had seen it with his own eyes. Though not without a fight, Jesper and Wylan had agreed to stay in a safe house for a couple days, whose location was known only to Kaz. Nina was away, and more than capable of handling herself. He had taken every precaution to make sure he wouldn’t get blindsided tonight. He had left nothing to chance. _He’s bluffing_ , Kaz told himself. _It’s all an act_.

“It’s three against three,” he said, watching Rollins’s face closely. “I like my chances.”

The look Pekka gave him chilled him to the bone. It was a shrewd and calculating look—the look of a man who was about to win. 

“Are you so sure about that, boy?”

Rollins gave the briefest nod and the sound of a gunshot rang behind Kaz’s back, followed by the loud thud of a body hitting the ground. Before he could turn around, Kaz felt something sharp dig between his shoulder blades and he froze, raising his hands slowly in surrender. From the corner of his eye, he could see Keeg’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor, his face a mess of red, torn flesh as blood oozed from the gaping hole in his head and pooled around him. Pim had shot him.

Kaz shook his head. A dry laugh escaped his lips and the muzzle of Pim’s gun pressed deeper into his back. “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking,” Kaz said almost to himself, as if he was remembering an old joke.

“That’s right,” replied Rollins, not bothering to hide his jubilation. “You were so focused on sniffing out the rats among the Dime Lions, you didn’t even think to look at your own men.” He took a step towards Kaz. “You’re not the only one with a trick up your sleeve, boy.” Another step. “Looks like it’s four against one now, Brekker. Do you still like your chances?”

The sharp tang of gunpowder still hung in the air, acrid and sour, so strong Kaz could almost taste metal on his tongue. He kept his eyes fixed on Rollins, and tried to maintain his composure as the world crumbled around him. _I’m going to lose_ , he realised. _I’m going to die_. He could only blame himself. He had grown soft. Trusting. First Jeroen, now Pim. Who else? How many of his men had ratted out? How many had turned on him? He supposed it didn’t matter now. 

Kaz felt a wave of weariness wash over him, and he found himself longing for the steadying heft of his cane. He wished he could see Inej’s face one last time. He wished... 

There was a loud clang as the double doors on the western side of the Exchange flew open. A man Kaz recognised as Gerrigan—a former Dime Lion who had fled Ketterdam with Rollins two years ago—was making his way towards them, his hurried footsteps echoing through the courtyard. Anika and Roeder were supposed to guard this entrance, make sure no one got in. Had they switched sides too? Or were they laying in a puddle of their own blood, as dead as Keeg? 

The man stopped running when he reached Rollins, and leaned in to whisper something in his ear, too low for Kaz to make out the words. Something dark glinted in Pekka’s eyes as he listened, and he rubbed his hands with glee. Whatever his henchman had just told him, it was good news. Rollins murmured something back, and the bruiser disappeared the same way he came in.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it,” Kaz snapped, desperate to hide the panic that clawed at his insides. If Rollins was waiting for him to squirm and beg, he’d be waiting a long time.

Pekka threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. “So eager to die, Brekker. But I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then what is this?” asked Kaz. “A tea party?”

Rollins made his way towards the shadowy corner of the square where Doughty had thrown Kaz’s walking stick earlier and picked it up, flipping it around in his hands as if to test its weight and balance. 

“Let’s call it payback, if you will,” Pekka said as he stepped back into the light. “See, you’re not going to die tonight, Brekker, but someone is. And _you_ ’re the one who gets to decide who.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rollins’s ugly face split into a triumphant smile. He tapped the tip of Kaz’s cane against the floor once, then twice, and the double doors opened once more, this time revealing not one but four figures, their faces cloaked in shadows. They moved slowly, with difficulty, and as they got closer, Kaz understood why. 

Two of them were Rollins’s men—Gerrigan, from earlier, and Eamon, former lieutenant for the Dime Lions—but the other two were gagged and bound, stumbling and struggling to break free as the two bruisers dragged them along. Kaz felt a scream building up inside him, and despair gnawed at his guts when he recognised the graceful knife-edge posture, the dark brown eyes like rain-soaked earth, and the glowing, luminous skin he had so longed to touch.

_Inej._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end of the game...
> 
> This chapter is a bit short (and very cliffhanger-y), sorry! But I hope you liked it anyway.  
> I won't be able to update tomorrow, so you're gonna have to wait a little longer for the next one. I guess you'll just have to watch that trailer over and over and over again to make up for it (I know we only got like 6 seconds of SoC content, but it was still so good!!! I mean how awesome is Amita as Inej?? The casting is just top notch with this show)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. And don't forget to share and subscribe!


	6. INEJ

Inej took a deep breath of sea air, the wind ruffling the stray hairs that had escaped from her braid as she watched Fifth Harbour and Ketterdam fade from view on the horizon. Now all she could see was the flickering lights of the city burning in the night like distant stars. She could no longer make out Kaz’s silhouette standing on the quay, his black coat fit snugly across his shoulders, his eyes trained on the retreating shape of _The Wraith_. 

He had come to see her off, to make sure she kept her word, but he had not approached; he had stayed a safe distance away, hidden among the busy evening crowd, invisible to anyone but her, as the crew boarded and weighed anchor. _Saints protect him_ , Inej had whispered as the wind had filled the sails, sending the ship ploughing through the waves.

Her heart felt heavy. Even though she was doing it on Kaz’s order, it still felt wrong to leave him, especially when he was in danger. This wasn’t how it worked. They didn’t abandon each other. _I would come for you_. The words echoed in her head, as loud and vibrant and unexpected as the day she had first heard them from him. She had doubted then, but she no longer doubted now. 

Head thrown back, chin to the stars, Inej let her eyes flutter shut. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. She thought about the first time she had seen Kaz at the Menagerie, all hard lines and sleek edges. She thought about Vellgeluk, and how he had looked at her then. She thought about the press of his lips on her neck in the bathroom at Geldrenner, the feel of his fingers entwined with her own as they stood on the quay the day her parents came to Ketterdam, the way his hands had cupped her cheeks when he’d kissed her—the memory so fresh in her mind she could almost feel it on her skin. She thought about the too-clever fox again, about how, in the story, he had cried out when the hunter had cut him open and how the nightingale had come flying from her birch tree to save him.

_Knives drawn, pistols blazing._

She released a startled breath when she felt Adem’s gentle hand coming to rest on the small of her back. She hadn’t heard him approach. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, eyebrows creased with concern as he leaned against the railing beside her. 

Inej could hear the sound of the water lapping against the hull with each wave and the cawing of the gulls circling above, calling out to each other. The familiar song of the sea, usually so soothing, for once did nothing to settle her nerves. She shook her head, her lips set into a thin line. “This is wrong.”

“Inej—”

“I once admonished you for sitting idly by while the monster ate its fill...” Hands gripping the rail, nails digging into the wood, she let out a small chuckle, devoid of any joy. “And now that’s exactly what I’m doing”

With the side of his index finger, Adem raised her chin gently. Where Inej had expected anger, exasperation, perhaps even jealousy, she found only loving, patient eyes staring back at her. 

His voice was as soft as his gaze when he said, “How many times have you saved him, Inej? Bled for him? Risked your neck for him? You don’t owe him anything anymore.”

She knew he was right but still the words rang false. She had saved Kaz’s life more times than she could count or even remember, but he had done more than that. He hadn’t just saved her life, he had changed it, shaped it, defined it. Kaz, she realised, was the axis around which her whole world revolved. The dividing mark. There was a Before, and there was an After, and, in between, there was meeting Kaz. She ignored the pang in her heart at the thought that she’d had no such impact on _his_ life—she had entered his world as soundlessly and stealthily as she prowled the streets of Ketterdam, a passing shadow, a wraith, and had left no trace behind.

Her fingers found their way to the smooth skin on the inside of her left forearm where the Menagerie tattoo had once been. 

“When I first met Kaz,” Inej tried to explain, “I was a fifteen year old girl, who’d been taken from her family and forced to work in a brothel. I was miserable and completely helpless. But then he came in one day.” The shadow of a smile touched her lips. “Lean and fierce and handsome in his immaculately cut suit, with his crow-head cane and his black leather gloves. People stopped talking whenever he walked into a room; they always sat up a little straighter. He was _powerful_. And he called me dangerous and offered me a way out.” She paused then, glancing back at the horizon. “Can you imagine what that does to a girl?“

Adem sighed and turned around to gaze upon the moonlit, restless surface of the sea. “We’re not leaving, are we?”

“I’m sorry, Adem.”

They were standing side by side, eyes fixed on the distant lights of Ketterdam, their hands inches from each other on the wooden rail. 

“Here I thought Brekker would never let you go,” he said, “when in fact you’re the one who keeps holding on.” There was no accusation in his voice, no bitterness, but an unmistakable sadness that made Inej’s stomach churn. “Can I ask you a question?”

The words brought her back to a not-so-distant day, when they’d been standing at the prow of this very ship, watching the sun set in the sea, the blue ocean basking in orange hues, and he had asked her the very same thing. The question had been about Kaz then, and she knew it would be about him now too, but she nodded anyway.

“Do you love him?”

It was a tough question with a simple answer, one she’d been trying to escape for years, one she suspected Adem knew already. She felt the truth roaring to life inside her, threatening to spill over, obliterating everything in its path like a rogue wave, but Inej pushed it back down. She wasn’t quite ready to admit it outright yet. Her hand closed over Adem’s on the railing. He didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil. Instead, he leaned into her touch, and entwined his fingers with hers. The sails creaked. 

“I love _you_ , too,” Inej said. 

It was a half-truth, a timid admission, the sorry best she could offer him right now, but he took it anyway. Adem raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a delicate kiss on her knuckles. Something warm coiled in her stomach, and Inej found herself wishing that _this_ could be enough, that she could forget Kaz, forget Ketterdam, leave this cesspool behind for good. But her heart, it seemed, had a mind of its own.

“Where are we headed, Captain?” Specht called out to her from the tiller.

Adem gave her a small, encouraging nod, and Inej shouted her orders, “South. We’re going back to Ketterdam.”

* * *

The bells of the Church of Barter chimed midnight as soon as Inej, Adem and Specht set foot on the berth. The parley was starting. They needed to move swiftly. Inej pulled up her hood, before setting off in the direction of the Exchange. They crossed through the Zelver District, blending into the shadows as they hugged the walls and the shuttered shop fronts, careful to stay clear of the streetlamps. 

Despite her objections, Adem and Specht had insisted they come along, and Inej was grateful. A heavy fog had fallen over the city, and the mist twined itself around the buildings like thick, hungry fingers, blotting out the streets ahead. The night was restless. Inej could feel a crackling energy ripping through the air, coursing through her, growing with each step, as one thought hammered in her head. _I need to get to Kaz_. _I need to get to Kaz_. 

Even the stars were feverish.

“Specht, you check the eastern entrance,” Inej instructed when the large rectangular shape of the Exchange came into view. “Adem and I will take the west.” 

Specht saluted before disappearing in the shadows to the east. He always did that. Inej had told him off countless times, reminding him that they were pirates not navy officers, but he’d kept doing it anyway, and eventually she’d stopped correcting him. 

She and Adem crossed the Beurscanal but stayed clear of the deserted main square that fronted the Exchange, heading instead for the northern side of the building that ran along the dark waters of the canal. They followed the brick wall, carried along by the sound of voices coming from the western arch, until they reached the northwest corner of the building. Inej silently motioned for Adem to stop and, carefully, she took a peek around the corner.

Standing out against the warm glow of the lantern at their feet, she could see Roeder, Kaz’s new spider, talking with two former Dime Lions— _Eamon and Gerrigan_ , she thought, the names coming back easily to mind. Their tone was polite, but the looks they exchanged were wary and their hands never strayed too far from the weapons they had tucked in their belts—there was no mistaking that they were on opposing teams. 

A few feet away from the group, Inej recognised Anika’s familiar crop of yellow hair, shaved on the side. She was pacing, a blade glinting in her hand as she spun it around tirelessly. The picture looked strangely familiar, as if Inej was looking through one of those distorting carnival mirrors that used to terrify her as a child. How many times had she been in this position? Forced to stand on the sidelines, her nervous fingers brushing over her knives as she recited their names, desperate for the comfort they offered while she awaited Kaz’s return, alive and well. 

Inej felt a surge of— _Of what?_ , she thought bitterly. _Jealousy?_ She used to be Kaz’s right-hand man, his most trusted ally, but Anika was his second now, his lieutenant. It was her job to worry about his safety, not Inej’s. And yet...

Inej squatted out of sight and felt around the ground in the dark, ignoring Adem’s questioning gaze as she picked up a small pebble. She held it out in the palm of her hand and watched it sparkle in the moonlight, white and bright against her dark skin. With as much precision as she could muster, she threw the tiny rock in Anika’s direction, hoping to attract her attention without the Dime Lions noticing. She missed, but the noise of the pebble hitting the ground was enough to bring Anika out of her thoughts and stop her incessant pacing. Alert, she looked around, eyes crinkled to slits as she struggled to peer through the dark. Inej had spent so much of her life attempting to be invisible, it felt strange now to try to get someone to notice her. She threw another pebble, hitting her mark in the leg this time, and Anika’s blue eyes found hers in the night.

“I’m going to take a leak,” Anika announced to no one in particular. 

She sheathed her knife and walked over to the shadowy corner where Inej and Adem were hiding. She did not stop when she reached them; instead, she hushed them with a finger and led them further down the canal-facing wall, making sure the Dime Lions were out of earshot. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked Inej, keeping her voice low. “I thought you’d left the city.”

Although the two girls had never been particularly close, Inej bristled at Anika’s sharp tone. The young woman looked genuinely displeased to see her—annoyed even—and Inej felt the urge to put her in her place. The Wraith did not have to bear scoldings from anyone.

“Change of plans,” Inej replied evasively, taking a page out of Kaz’s book.

Anika bobbed her chin in Adem’s direction, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who’s that?”

He held out his elegant hand and introduced himself, “Adem Bajan.” 

Anika stared him down, unsure what to do, and looked back at Inej, a slight frown in her brow.

“He’s with me,” said Inej, lowering Adem’s hand. Gangsters, unlike music teachers, didn’t shake hands. She nodded towards the Exchange. “How is it going in there?”

“So far it’s been quiet,” Anika shrugged. “He’s got Pim and Keeg with him.”

The Dregs’ biggest bruisers and best brawlers, and two of Kaz’s most loyal followers—a sound choice for a parley that would most likely end in a giant fist fight. 

Still, Inej shook her head. “I don’t trust Rollins. I want to see what’s going on inside.” She looked up at the brick wall, past the windowless ground floor, analysing her options. “I need to get to the roof.”

“I’m coming with you.” Adem said decidedly. 

“It’s a pretty steep climb. It’ll be easier if I go alone.” 

_I want to go alone_ , Inej amended. She was grateful when he didn’t push.

“I need to get back to the others before they suspect something,” Anika said with a backwards glance. 

When she turned back she seemed uneasy, casting the Wraith a meaningful look. 

“Inej—” she paused, hesitating. “If they see you…”

“I know,” Inej replied. 

If the Dime Lions managed to get their hands on her, she would be used as leverage, dangled as bait, maimed and tortured until Kaz stood down, tamed and broken at last, exactly as he feared. She doubted Rollins would go easy on her—not after she’d broken into his home and threatened to cut his heart out. No, he would relish making her suffer, hearing her scream in pain. 

_Just don't get caught_ , Inej told herself.

With a brief nod, Anika turned on her heels and left to rejoin her post. Inej’s eyes fastened upon Adem, handsome swathed in the cold moonlight, and a thousand different words crowded in the back of her mind—all of them wrong. It felt like one of those moments when she was supposed to say something deep and meaningful, something like _I’m still yours, even if I’m running to another man_. Instead, she cupped his cheeks with her hands and rested her forehead against his, eyes closing for a fleeting moment. 

She had always been better with silence than with words.

“I’ll be back,” whispered Inej, her voice like a promise. “Stay hidden.”

She pressed the smallest of kisses to the corner of his lips and quickly scurried off before Adem had a chance to stop her. She cursed her misguided heart—her silly, silly heart—for wanting the wrong thing, for making her run so eagerly after the boy who would surely be her death, as if she was yearning for her own destruction.

This time there was no oil or ground glass, no vain attempt to hinder her climb. The drain pipes were clean and dry, and the cornices were smooth and bare. No one was expecting her. She grabbed a downspout and started shinning up, hoisting herself higher by the sheer strength of her arms and legs. She missed the comfort of her rubber soles, but the two-storey building was no challenge for the Wraith, and, soon, she was hauling herself onto the gabled roof, keeping an eye out for the _stadwatch_ guards. She crawled halfway up the slate shingles, pricking up her ear to try and catch bits and pieces of the conversation below.

“—awfully confident,” Kaz’s raspy voice floated up to her.

“Well, confidence is the prerogative of men who have nothing to lose.”

Inej glanced around and tried to pick out the shapes of the guards in the dark and the mist. The narrow walkway they used to patrol the Exchange was empty and there was no sign of them anywhere. Maybe Kaz or Rollins had paid them to take a midnight stroll. She took her chance and raced across the slick roof tiles, then slid down the steep pitch of the roof until she finally had eyes on the courtyard below.

“Like you?” Kaz asked.

Something was off, but it took Inej a moment to realise what it was. Kaz’s arms were dangling by his side, still and useless, his gloved hands clenched over nothing. _No crow cane_ , Inej thought. It made her nervous for some reason, and she could tell Kaz didn’t like it anymore than she did—though he made a good show of hiding it.

Flanked by his two henchmen, Rollins met Kaz’s quiet phlegm with confident bluster, a sly smile curling his lips as he slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing the familiar tattoo of a feral cat curled into a crown—the mark of the Dime Lions. “My son is away and safe, out of your reach. Everything else, you already took from me.”

Inej looked at the six men below and tried to tally the odds. Word on the street was that Jeroen’s knifework could rival even her own, but did he fare so well with only his fists? Physically, he was no match for neither Pim nor Keeg, who were both almost a full foot taller and much broader. Doughty, however, was far more intimidating. He was an immovable mountain of dense muscles and the biggest of the lot by far. The Dregs would need to rely on swiftness and agility if they hoped to best him. 

Inej studied Kaz and Rollins next. Kaz was taller, but leaner. Though his technique lacked finesse, he was a fierce fighter, and she would have put her money on him over Rollins any other day. But the absence of his cane put him at a disadvantage, and Inej felt doubt starting to creep in. If only she could join the fight, then she could tip the odds in Kaz’s favour… 

The sound of Rollins’s voice rose like a warning. “You, on the other hand, have a lot to lose, Brekker. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“It’s three against three,” Kaz replied, impassive as ever. “I like my chances.”

_I don’t_ , Inej thought to herself. Something in Pekka’s cunning smirk made her skin crawl and left her almost breathless. He didn’t look like a man who was about to take a beating—he looked like a man about to play a trump card. 

She could feel something tugging at her, clutching her chest. _Fear_ , she realised. Her father’s voice echoed in her head. 

_When fear arrives, something is about to happen_.

“Are you so sure about that, boy?”

The sound of the gunshot pierced through the silent night and sent Inej tumbling backwards, as if the bullet had hit her. She could feel her whole body shaking. Her mouth had gone dry, and air was coming in and out of her in tiny, laboured gasps, catching in her throat. Forcing herself to her feet, she cast a downward glance at the courtyard, willing her heart to slow down. Kaz was still standing— _Thank the Saints_ , Inej breathed, relief flowing through her—but Keeg was down, and Pim was holding a pistol to Kaz’s back. 

Incoherent thoughts swirled and chased one another in her brain, turning her mind into a jumble. She couldn’t think straight. _Pim shot Keeg. He’s working for Rollins. Kaz is going to get killed. I’m going to watch him die. Need to get down there. Too late—no, not yet. Need to move. The heart is an arrow. Move, Inej,_ her mind insisted. _Move_.

She heard a noise behind her and reached for Sankta Lizabeta without thinking, her hand flying to the rose-engraved handle at her belt. But before her fingers could close over the hilt, she felt the cool edge of a blade digging into the soft skin of her throat, right over her pulsepoint, threatening to draw blood.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Inej couldn’t see her face, but she recognised her voice. 

_Anika_. Kaz’s own lieutenant.

Worry burrowed into Inej’s chest. “Adem?” she asked, fingers still hovering over the knife snug at her hip.

“He’s alive,” replied Anika. “For now.” The blade dug a little deeper. “Hands up.”

_I could take her_ , Inej thought, her right palm just inches from the sheath. _I could. Maybe._ Anika was fast, Inej was faster. But even if she did somehow manage to get her knife out before Anika slit her throat, Rollins’s men still had Adem. And Kaz. There was no way she could take them all on her own. 

_But I can die trying_.

Taking her opponent by surprise, Inej released the trigger on her left forearm and Sankta Alina slid into her hand, its bone handle glowing in the night. She managed a stab to Anika’s thigh, but the Dregs’ lieutenant had a firm grip on her and before she could do any more damage, Anika grabbed Inej’s arm, hooked a leg around her calf, and sent her toppling over the slate shingles. Inej tried to get up, but Anika was holding her in place, knees and elbows pinning her down against the cold surface of the roof. The blade was at her throat again, and Inej could feel warm blood trickling down her neck, dripping onto the charcoal tiles beneath her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked as Anika stripped her down of her daggers with one hand. “What did Rollins promise you?”

It didn’t make any sense. Anika had always been loyal to Kaz. She liked him—more than that, she _worshiped_ him. Always eager to please, always batting her yellow eyelashes at him, hoping one day he’d respond. Maybe she had grown tired of waiting for him to notice. 

“He promised me the Dregs,” said Anika.

“What about Kaz?”

“Kaz is a fine boss, but I’m tired of playing second fiddle.”

Inej felt her blood boil with unadulterated fury at Anika’s words. _The ungrateful snake_. Kaz had got her out of the streets, plucked her out of whatever sad, hopeless dump she came from. He’d trained her, taught her, given her a job and a roof to sleep under. He had trusted her, and now she had turned on him. For what? For a seat at the table? For a chance to be Queen of the Barrel?

Then again, Inej thought, hadn’t Kaz done the exact same thing? Despite his fondness for the old Barrel boss, Kaz had betrayed Per Haskell, the man who’d given him a chance and offered him a place to start. Perhaps it was just history repeating itself. Maybe Kaz’s reckoning was inevitable, and the seeds of his ruin had been sown long ago. 

But he had won the Dregs from Haskell fair and square—by the strength of his fists and the sweat of his brow. Anika was cheating.

She yanked Inej up and tied her hands behind her back, giving the rope a sharp tug that grazed her wrists, burning her skin. 

“I like you Wraith,“ Anika said, her tone almost remorseful. “I really wish you’d stayed away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the wait wasn't too painful, and that this chapter satisfied your appetite.  
> Only one more to go... and it's a doozy.
> 
> Thank you to every one who commented or left kudos. You are truly the best!


	7. KAZ

“Ah, Wraith!” Rollins beamed as Eamon forced Inej to her knees before him, her hands bound tightly behind her back and an old rag tied around her mouth to keep her from talking. “A pleasure to see you again. You and I have some unfinished business I believe.”

Kaz felt as if the floor had sunk beneath his feet. His legs were unsteady, his mind hazy. _This is not real_ , he told himself. _This is some kind of trick_. Inej had left the city. Bajan, who was kneeling on the ground opposite her, had gone too. He had seen them. His heart heavy but his mind at ease, he had watched _The Wraith_ depart, its white sails caught in the wind as the ship bobbed on the waves. 

Why turn back? For him? Anger and something else, something warmer—hope? love?—, swelled in his heart. _And what unfinished business?_ , Kaz thought. Had the Wraith been messing with Rollins behind his back?

He tried to take a step forward but Pim grabbed his arms and hooked his elbows behind his back, holding him in place. 

Rollins’ mouth curled with sadistic pleasure. “Starting to catch on, are you, lad?” 

“Let them go!” Kaz bellowed. 

He fought the urge to thrash and squirm, to break free of Pim’s embrace and run to Inej. He could feel a white flame of rage spring to life inside him as it always did in Rollins’s presence, warm and familiar and all-consuming. He wanted to kill the old man. He wanted to snatch his cane from Pekka’s podgy hand and bash his face in with the crow head until all that remained was a dark pool of blood and brains. He wanted to take the flame that burnt inside him and set this whole wretched city on fire and stomp on its ashes. 

But he didn’t. He tipped his chin up instead, his expression deadly, his jaw set, his face a mask of impassivity, and kept his eyes firmly away from Inej. Kaz wouldn’t make the same mistake he had on Vellgeluk. He wouldn’t show his cards just yet.

“Let them go,” he repeated in his gravel-rough voice.

“It’s not easy to find a pressure point on you, Brekker,” Rollins crooned, unphased. “But everybody has a weakness.”

With greedy eyes, he reached out and brushed his knuckles against Inej’s cheek. She hissed and glowered, turning her face away from his touch as if it burnt, and Kaz found it even harder to stand still.

Rollins shook his head wearily. “Even if yours is… slippery.” He grabbed Inej’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eye, and brought his lips to her ear. “You won’t sneak your way out of this one, little girl.”

Inej let out a defiant huff of breath and Rollins released her, giving Eamon and Gerrigan a small nod. On his signal, the two Dime Lions pulled out their pistols and pointed them at the prisoners' heads—Eamon at Inej, Gerrigan at Bajan. 

Kaz felt his heart leap in his throat. Throwing caution to the wind, his eyes flew to Inej, searching for the depth and warmth of her irises, desperate to drown in the freshly melted chocolate brown of her eyes one last time. But the gunshot didn’t come, and her gaze remained fixed on Bajan, kneeling across from her on the cobblestones, as poised and elegant as ever. She was looking at him with sad but loving eyes, offering apologies and comfort, radiating both softness and strength, and Kaz found himself wishing she would look at him like that. 

_Please look at me, Inej_ , he begged silently. _Let me see those eyes_.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Rollins. “I’m going to count to ten, and when I’m done, one of them is going to die, a bullet lodged in their brain.” For good measure, he pointed at the spot between Kaz’s eyes with the tip of his walking stick. “Your choice, Dirtyhands. I’ll make you live up to the name.”

Suddenly, Rollins’s plan came into clear focus in Kaz’s mind, and he understood at last the sick, twisted way in which he was about to be tortured. “Stop it,” came his weak protest.

“So who’s it going to be? The woman you love? Or the man _she_ loves?” Pekka’s jowls were quivering with delight. “Either way you lose her,” he explained, savouring each word, “because even if she lives, she will _never_ forgive you.”

Mustering all the bravado he could find, Kaz asked, “And if I don’t choose?”

“Then I shoot them both.”

Kaz watched Rollins’s face closely, looking for tells, as if he could somehow find a way out of this on the old man’s face. How had he miscalculated this so spectacularly? Kaz had gone into this parley knowing it was risky, that Rollins and his men might best him, and he had been more than ready to wager his own life. But he hadn’t anticipated Pim’s betrayal or Inej and Bajan’s capture. He hadn’t anticipated just how vicious and cruel Rollins could be. Kaz had thought he had nothing to lose, he was only now realising how wrong he’d been. 

Could Rollins’s words be nothing but empty threats? A twisted game like the one Kaz had played on him at the Church of Barter? A ploy to show the world that Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, had weaknesses, just like any other man? Rollins’s expression was inscrutable, his gaze unflinching. 

“You’re bluffing,” Kaz said at last.

Pekka smiled. “Are you willing to bet?” 

The question was a challenge, and Kaz knew he had already lost. 

He remained silent, and pleasure flashed across Rollins’s face. 

“You should have heeded your own words, Brekker. _The trick is not to love anything_. You told me that once.”

Kaz could lie. Tell Rollins that he didn’t love Inej, that he never had, that she meant nothing to him now that she wasn’t his spider. Lying was what he did best after all. But Kaz couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. His eyes drifted to her once more, and this time Inej was looking back at him, her gaze unreadable. Her plait was mostly undone, and long, loose strands of dark hair framed her face on each side. Kaz felt a desperate, hopeless kind of ache. What would Inej tell him now if she could talk? _I love you too? I’m sorry I didn’t follow your orders and got us into this mess? I hate you?_ Kaz scoffed inwardly. She would probably offer some pretty Suli proverb as consolation, and send a quick prayer to her Saints. Where were her Saints now? 

Kaz knew he should be mad—mad that Inej disobeyed him, mad that she came back and put herself in danger so recklessly, mad that she got caught. But he wasn’t. He would have done the same for her. He would _always_ come for her.

His eyes slid off hers and darted to Rollins, and Kaz found it increasingly hard to keep his anger in check. He could feel his carefully constructed calm start to slip away, the raging flame inside him threatening to break free and consume everything in its path like wildfire. He wanted to smash the Kaelish gangster’s pride, and poke the arrogance right out of his eyes. 

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he snarled.

“Yes,” Rollins agreed with a shrug. “You should have.”

Kaz tried to tame the chaos in his mind and consider his options. Rotty, Roeder and Anika were still out there. He could shout, call for help. But he had no idea how many of his men were still loyal to him, and by the time they got here, Inej and Bajan could already be lying dead at his feet next to Keeg. He could try disarming Pim with a well-aimed kick or a swift headbutt and shoot his way out, but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t take this chance—not while Inej had a gun to her head. _Think, Kaz, think_.

“No one’s coming to help you, boy,” Pekka said, as if reading his mind.

Rollins’s voice was like a flint, sparking Kaz’s fire. Forgetting all pretense, Kaz released a low growl—bestial, enraged, unrestrained—and tried to scrabble free. “They’re innocent. Let them go!”

Now Rollins was laughing. “ _Please_. Miss Ghafa is hardly innocent,” he said. “She’s a whore, a thief, and a pirate.”

Kaz thrashed and struggled like a maniac, feeling Pim’s hold on him finally loosening, until the bruiser gave his bad shin a vicious kick and Kaz’s leg gave out under his weight. He stumbled, almost keeling over, but Pim held him upright, his firm grip back in place.

Rollins closed the distance between them, his eyes dark, all traces of a smile gone from his lips. His face was inches from Kaz’s when he said, “My boy was innocent.”

“I never touched a hair on your boy’s head!”

“One!” Pekka started counting.

Panic seized Kaz like an ice cold wave. It swept over the dying embers of his rage, until nothing remained but fear. Shuddering, unendurable dread. _Ten seconds_. In ten seconds he would lose Inej forever, unless he could find the magic words that would get Rollins to stand down. 

Inej’s eyes had fluttered close but her lips were moving, murmuring something around her gag. _She’s praying_ , Kaz realised. He darted a glance in Bajan’s direction. The Suli man was standing as still as a statue, his head held high, no sign of fear in his demeanor except for the unmistakable glisten in his eyes. Kaz had to give him credit: Bajan was braver than he seemed. 

They didn’t deserve this.

“They have nothing to do with this,” Kaz tried to reason, his voice little more than a whimper. “This is between you and me, Rollins. I’m the one you want. Just shoot me!”

“Two,” Rollins continued to count, impervious to Kaz’s protests. 

“ _Shoot me_. Let them go.”

“Three.”

The wave receded, and the scorching flame of Kaz’s rage ignited once more. His eyes fastened upon Rollins, as dark and bitter as coffee, and the fire leapt from his unsteady lips. “If you kill either of them I swear to Ghezen, to Djel and to all the Saints and all the fucking gods out there that I will come at you with everything I have.”

The corners of Pekka’s lips twitched up. “Four.”

“I will kill your son. I will kill every Dime Lion left in this city. I will burn this place to the ground and everyone you love with it. I won’t stop until you have _truly_ nothing left to lose. I promise you, you are going to regret not killing me tonight.”

“Five.”

“STOP! JUST STOP!” Kaz shouted, his desperate cries echoing around the empty courtyard.

Rollins shut his parted lips and Kaz let out a sigh of relief. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he had to close his eyes, make himself breathe more easily. His chest was heaving in ragged bursts, his hands felt damp and clammy, and his legs were jelly. He tried to ignore the black spots that crowded his vision.

“I have five million _kruge_ in the bank,” he said, trying to even his breathing. “They’re yours. You can have the Crow Club, you can have Fifth Harbour, the Slat, you can have everything. I’ll give you the Barrel. It’s all yours. Just let them go.”

Pekka paused, turning the words over. _Good_ , Kaz thought. _I have his attention._ This was Ketterdam after all. The city of trade, commerce and profit. And what better place to make an exchange than here, inside these very walls?

Kaz was calmer now and Pim released his hold cautiously. He squared his shoulders, straightened his tie and ran his trickster hands through his hair, combing back the loose strands that had fallen over his eyes. He instantly felt more like himself.

“Just tell me what you want,” Kaz said, his voice almost a purr. “We’re businessmen, are we not? I’m sure we can find an agreement.”

Rollins didn’t need to think before he replied, eyes bright with pleasure, “I want you to beg.”

“What?” Kaz asked uselessly. 

“I want you to get on your knees and beg me to let them live, the way I begged you to let my son live.” 

Kaz’s first instinct was to scoff, to refuse and tell Pekka Rollins to fuck off and go to hell. Kaz Brekker was many things, but he was not weak and he certainly did not beg. He would sooner drown under a pile of bodies in Reaper’s Barge than kneel to Jakob Hertzoon—to the man who had ruined his life, who’d conned him out of his money and led Jordie to his death. 

But then his eyes crossed Inej’s—warm, kind eyes that demanded nothing of him—and he felt his pride start to wobble. 

_More money, more mayhem, more scores to settle. Was there never another dream?_ , she had asked him once. Kaz had remained silent then, but now he wanted to scream.

_You, Inej_ , his heart hammered. _You were my dream_. 

“Six.”

“Stop,” said Kaz, his voice a resigned whisper.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek, salty on his lips, but he didn’t bother brushing it away. The sensation was strange, almost alien. Kaz hadn’t cried in a long, long time—not since Jordie died. The rage and need for revenge that had always fueled him had been so raw and all-consuming that it had kept most of the pain at bay. But now, there was no point in anger—anger would not save him, it would not save her—and all he felt was misery, a great sorrow pouring from the cracks of his hopeless heart.

He knew his reputation would never recover from this, that he would lose the Dregs and everything he had fought so hard to build. But he didn’t care. _Fuck the Dregs_ , he thought. _Fuck the Barrel. Fuck this whole sinful city_. Kaz fell to his knees, a surge of pain shooting through his bad leg as he hit the ground. 

“Please, Rollins,” he pleaded, despair carved onto the lines of his face. “I’m begging you. Let them go. I’ll do whatever you want. _Please_!”

Kaz caught only a brief glimpse of the disgust on Rollins’s face before he crumbled to the ground, down on all fours in front of everyone, as violent sobs shook him. It was as if someone had cut into his chest and cracked him open. He cried without restraint. The dam had burst, his armour had been blown to bits, and now a lifetime of grief was spilling out, drowning him. 

He let the tide take him.

“Get him on his feet.”

He felt a pair of hands seize him and drag him up, until he was back on his two legs. He must have looked pathetic, his face soaked with tears and snot, his whole body shaking like a leaf caught in the wind. But Kaz couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. For the first time in his life, he was tired of fighting.

“You have less than five seconds to choose or I kill them both,” Rollins growled.

Of course he was never going to be true to his word. Kaz could have begged, crawled, licked his boots and kissed his feet, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Rollins was out for revenge, he was out for blood, and he wouldn’t stop until Kaz was destroyed. 

“I can’t!” Kaz cried.

Rollins tapped the crow-head cane against the cobblestones three times, his patience running thin. “Come on, Dirtyhands,” he barked. “Earn your name. Seven!”

Kaz shook his head, his voice breaking over the words as fresh sobs caught in his throat. “I can’t choose.”

“Eight.” 

_Two seconds_. He locked eyes with Inej once more. She was still on her knees. Silent tears were streaming down her face and she was paler than usual, but her posture was erect, straight as the edge of a blade, graceful and ruthless. The look she gave him was unwavering and resolute; it was not asking, it was commanding, and he knew exactly what she demanded of him. She wanted him to save Bajan. She wanted him to choose her. 

Kaz had never been able to say no to her, but now he could not say yes. Slowly, his eyes travelled over Inej’s face, hoarding images of her, memorising every single detail about her—the deep swirl of her irises, the gentle slope of her nose, the perfect curve of her lips. Kaz let his love for her fill him to the brim. She was a glowing slice of sun on a cloudy day. She was the candle that kept out the night. She was goodness and hope in a violence-soaked world. And she was so much more than he deserved. 

Brave, beautiful Inej. His Wraith. She had lied for him, stolen for him, killed for him.

But she would not die for him.

“Nine.”

Kaz plunged his eyes into her own. “Please forgive me.”

Understanding hit her and Inej let out a muffled scream. Eamon had to hold her in place as she thrashed and writhed, struggling against her bonds, her eyes wide with fear as they flicked between Kaz and Bajan desperately. 

Rollins shouted, “ _Ten_!” 

“Shoot him!” cried Kaz at the same time.

The shot went off and he forced himself to look as Bajan fell to the ground, a neat bullet wound in the middle of his forehead, eyes wide open. _Dead_. 

Eamon let go of Inej, and she collapsed next to Bajan on the cobbled floor, wailing as she buried her face in his inert chest. Kaz realised with absolute horror that he had never heard her cry before—her tears had always been as silent as her steps. But now her harrowing sobs filled the cold night, deafening as they bounced off the walls of the Exchange. It was the most heartbreaking sound Kaz had ever heard, and he would have given anything to make it stop. Her tears were more unbearable than his own.

Inej deserved happiness, she deserved love, and Kaz had ripped it from her. This blood wouldn’t wash off his hands.

Pim gave him a shove, and Kaz stumbled to the ground, breaking the fall with his palms. He barely registered the pain shooting through his bad leg as his knee hit the floor with a _clunk_. He felt numb. Completely hollow except for the dark hole growing inside him, threatening to swallow him whole.

His ears were ringing. He heard the faint murmur of Rollins’s voice, the distant sound of the old man’s feet treading the ground as he made his way towards him. 

“I promised you once that there would be no end to your suffering, Brekker.” Pekka was standing above him, casting his crumpled form in shadow. “This is just the start.” 

Kaz did not look up, he did not move or utter a single word, not even as Pekka Rollins’s boot came into his field of vision, hovering menacingly above his left hand. 

“I will destroy you,” Rollins said as he brought his foot down on Kaz’s slender fingers, crushing the bones under the black leather with his heel. “ _Brick by brick_.” 

Someone screamed in pain, and it took Kaz a minute to realise it was him. There was movement going on around him, meaningless noise and pointless bustling. A loud _clang_ resounded as Rollins dropped his crow cane, but Kaz made no move to pick it up. He lied down on the cold floor and rolled onto his back, gazing up at the pitch black sky, where the stars hid behind the dense cloud of mist and coal smoke that shrouded the city.

Soon, even the echo of the Dime Lions’ retreating footsteps faded away, until the only sound that remained was the sound of Inej weeping.

Kaz suddenly felt very tired—more tired than he had in years. He was nine years old again, and all he wanted was to go home. 

_Home_. Where was home? 

Tiny flashes of memory sparked through Kaz’s mind, elusive, ephemeral images that came and went too quickly for him to grasp. He thought of the small run-down, dilapidated rooms of the Slat, its crooked hallways, the squeaky, endless stairs, the tiny space he had made his own under the gabled roof, and Inej perched on the window sill, feeding the crows. He thought about the Nest, the pile of broken-up wooden boxes where he and Jordie had spent so many nights huddling for warmth. He thought about the house on Zelverstraat, the blue front door, the white lace curtains, the silver dog, and about the little boarding house where he and Jordie had first stayed when they’d arrived in Ketterdam. He thought about the family farm, the sweet smell of hay, clover and apples, the meadows basked in sunlight, and Jordie’s carefree laugh as he ran through the tall grass.

But home wasn’t a place, Kaz realised. Home was the people he loved. Home was Jordie. It was Inej. And they were both out of his reach.

“Don’t leave me,” Kaz murmured, though he had no idea to whom.

Footsteps echoed through the courtyard. A familiar voice. _Anika?_ Kaz thought. _Rotty?_ No, it was Specht’s voice. Kaz recognised it now. He was speaking to Inej, softly, comfortingly. Kaz thought he heard his name being called out; he wasn’t sure. He didn’t answer.

He could feel something warm underneath his arm, soaking his fingers through the glove. He turned and saw his hand was lying in Keeg’s blood. The bruiser’s remaining eye was staring right back at him, unblinking.

He could hear Jordie’s voice now, ringing in his ears. _The city is winning so far. But you’ll see who wins in the end._

Kaz’s lips parted and he let out a small laugh. Or maybe it was a sob. He couldn’t tell. 

How wrong Jordie had been. The city had won, again and again, and Kaz Brekker had lost. Jordie was dead, Bajan had been killed and Inej was lost to him forever. 

He was once again surrounded by bodies, praying for a salvation that would never come. He needed to get up. He knew Rollins had to pay. He knew vengeance was waiting. 

But this time, Kaz had no one to cling on to, and he didn’t think he could find it in himself to swim back to shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably all hate me right now, and that's okay. I kind of hate myself too. But I do hope you enjoyed the ride.
> 
> Truth is, my plan has always been to end this story here. But I do have some ideas for an epilogue, so if you guys are interested, let me know. It might encourage me to finally write it.
> 
> Please, please comment, leave kudos and share this story <3  
> Writing it has been an absolute blast, but also a huge challenge. It is now my first ever completed multi-chapter fic yay!


End file.
